Feb 19, 2009

In a dramatic and perfectly timed exit befitting the amateur thespian that he was, my father passed away last night... on my oldest sister's birthday.

She's beside herself with pique at this last bit of his upstaging her life, but will join us nonetheless as we bid farewell to the dear, if perplexing, old fart. Oh, how that would make his eyes twinkle to hear me insult him like that! His mock dismay at such cheek and lack of respect for his years... sigh...

Just last month my sister said, "I just know he's waiting to die on my birthday, the rat!" She's uncanny like that. He is too, apparently. They haven't spoken in years except for our recent visit in which he was too addlepated to actually connect with us. Family. Funny, strange, and transcendent. Go figure.

I awoke last night, worrying about so many things. Money, work, health. I strengthened my mind against the onslaught and rolled over with a deep sigh, seeking to return to sleep. Suddenly, my entire body shuddered with a wave of visceral awareness of something. It washed over me and I thought it rather strange because it wasn't a panic attack but a sudden sense of frailty and smallness, the way one can feel all alone on the sea or the side of a huge mountain. I wondered if my father had just passed away, or something quite jarring was happening somewhere in the world. Eventually I drifted back into the safety of the unconscious.

I got the phone call this morning and was simply gobsmacked, almost laughing with incredulity at the outrageous exit of my old man. I would have been deeply disappointed by anything less, I suppose.

I liked your stories about your Dad too. You have my sympathies. I know that sense of fraility and smallness....I labeled it untethered, set adrift. Fortunately, I knew enough about losing to lean into it. God is merciful.

Sorry, Joan, to hear about your Dad. I know you are glad that you just went to visit him. Love hearing that unique voice in your stories about him. When my Dad died I knew that Iwould have been more upset at my dogs death. Blessings and Happy Birthday to your sis.

Darlin', I've never been good with this sort of thing, so I won't risk botching it. Sounds, though, like you've got a good head about it, which makes me feel like you'll be okay through this. *big hugs* You know where I'm at if you need a liberal to bash. *wink*

Your dad did know a thing or two about special effects (e.g. limestone pebbles - great story), so his final message to you and your sister is indeed priceless. He left you with some great memories. God bless you and yours, Joan.

Joan I am sorry to hear of the loss of your father but I have to say the thought of a memorial service at Weekie Wachie has me tickled. I know you're not talking about having it AT Weekie Wachie but I may have to work that into my own pre-planning ideas.

GONE!

By the way...

All posts and personal pictures are copyrighted by the author. (Well, except for a picture or two I may have copied from somewhere on the Internet, or from someone else who copied it. If it's yours, let me know and down it comes, 'k? The rest really do come from my own camera.) Anything else should be understood for what it is: musings of a muddled mind. Because the author is maniacally convinced of her own superior skills in communication, she cannot be held responsible for another's misunderstanding. You can see how that would upset her tenuous hold on reality.